|A snapshot of Puerto Vallarta.|
A Moment of PeaceThere really isn't such a thing as peace, at least I don't think so. It isn't that you've finished your work or done your chores or even greeted the day on a good note. The quiet that comes from a moment of peace isn't really quiet at all, but the absence of everything you wish to avoid.A Moment of Peace by Desanime
When someone demands a moment of peace to regain themselves or to regroup their thoughts, I can't do much more than smile wickedly and say asking for peace is asking abandonment to make itself at home because peace comes with a very heavy handed price.
It comes by taking everything you hold, in endearment or fury.
Sitting outside on the concrete walk after you've run from your troubles and listening to the crickets chattering mindlessly or the night birds twitter without end isn't a moment of peace but merely accepting a different form of chaos, a smaller version of what you just ran from, a cacophony that doesn't punch your head or drown your ears.
But it isn't peace
Just One More DropIt started with a single drop.Just One More Drop by Desanime
It fell hard and missed the only pool of water there was. It bounced off the rim of the puddle and drizzled into nothing as the asphalt below it dried it up. Rain had never tasted so good, but when it was wanted most, just begged to let loose and cry, the clouds rolled up on themselves and whispered never mind. They would grow bigger and bigger, like giant clouds of a smoke from who knows how many of your cigarettes, only prettier.
And these wouldn't kill me.
But too much of something can. And so it went, with every cloud that rolled over my sky, it turn my days gray and smooth, like the softest of blankets on the coldest of my nightmares. The moon would glow and dress up with the biggest silver ring of promise, for rain, for a storm, for something to end the pattern of icy nights and still mornings.
Pity is a wondrous thing. It's not surprising how much is done out of pity. The clouds rolled flat, dejected and docile, but still refused to give up their r
It's Like ThisIt was like looking through a room full of nothing more than hanging cobwebs. Like combing through an attic in search of that one blasted illusive photo album that contained all your memories, even the ones you couldn't remember. It's watching the dust explode around your heels and toes as you scuttle through the darkness, away from the tiny foot prints and reaching slips of old sweaters.It's Like This by Desanime
It's wondering where you put that album and knowing you won't remember in time. The voices from down stairs are calling you back and wondering where you've disappeared to, and it's turning around like a frightened creature at the sound of the door creaking open and the light flashing through. It's like watching the shadow play against the wall and knowing you have to hide soon, or they'll find you.
And even as I reach the top of the attic in search of her, I can't find her. Between the boxes of sweaters and the rotting bags of old toys, she's gone. Her foots prints have ceased being steady and now str
Current Residence: Arizona|
Favourite genre of music: Country, Alternative Rock, Orchestra.
Favourite photographer: None as of yet.
Favourite style of art: Anime
MP3 player of choice: Philips
Wallpaper of choice: Landscapes/Dogs
Skin of choice: Frost/Green/Orange
Favourite cartoon character: Kakashi, Iruka, Jazz, Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Personal Quote: "Cool beans, but no."